


Salute The Flag

by bomberqueen17



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/pseuds/bomberqueen17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has a little bit of a crush on his esteemed colleague and team leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salute The Flag

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a pair of boxer-briefs I discovered on the sale rack at Target. Of course I snapped them up, but my darling dearest model refuses to let me take a picture to share.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sheppard said. 

Teyla looked blank. “About what, John?” She was already unlacing her shirt. 

“Wait, we have to get naked?” Rodney squawked. He hadn’t been listening at all. 

Teyla looked from John to Rodney to Ford, who was blank-faced in astonishment. “Not naked,” she said. “You simply remove all but your innermost garments. Why is this so surprising?”

Sheppard looked thoughtful, then pained. “I’d be better off with nothin’,” he muttered. 

“I was warned your people had nudity taboos,” Teyla said. “Is it more than that?”

“Most of us don’t really get dressed in the mornin’ expectin’ to put our underpants on display,” Sheppard grumbled. 

“But having your junk just hang out is fine?” Rodney asked, indignant. 

Sheppard sighed. “When in Rome,” he said, and unzipped his tac vest. 

Rodney followed suit reluctantly. Teyla was first of any of them, and it was a little odd, Rodney thought, that she was wearing normal Earth underpants. Hanes, in fact, pale pink. He remembered just in time not to ask where she’d gotten them. She had a sports bra on, too, which was a little disappointing; he’d seen her topless before and it was a beautiful sight. He supposed it was just as well, as it was less distracting this way. 

Ford, predictably, was wearing standard-issue olive-drab uniform boxers, and looked disappointingly non-ridiculous in them. He had, as Rodney had observed before, the flawless body of a 25-year-old Marine, with the added bonus of enough innate skin pigmentation to avoid dorky tan lines and the particularly unflattering (Rodney thought) effect of dark hair against pasty, pasty skin.

Sheppard had a hilarious t-shirt tan, though the hair on his chest was sufficient to blunt the effect somewhat. But more amazingly, he was not wearing uniform underpants, but rather a gaudy pair of very form-fitting boxer-briefs decorated with stars and stripes and outlined in bright red trim. Ford snorted and looked away, and Rodney made no attempt to muffle his laughter, but burst out with a raucous squawk. “Where the hell did you get those?” he asked. 

“Shut up,” Sheppard said. “I didn’t buy ‘em. They’re my last pair.” 

“What, they just showed up in your drawers drawer?” Ford asked. 

“No,” Sheppard said. “A particular female companion though they would be funny. And they fit, and they’re comfortable, and I never wear ‘em, so they’ve never worn out, so I still have them. And I really need to do laundry.”

“You can really salute the flag with those,” Ford said. 

Sheppard was avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Shut up,” he said. “All of you. That’s an order.”

Rodney was taking full advantage of the fact that Sheppard wasn’t looking at him, and ogling his scantily-clad assets more blatantly than he normally dared. “Those are really something,” he said. Sheppard’s ass was a lot rounder than you’d think from the way it looked in his BDUs. High and round and tight, and his thighs bulged with long clean lines of muscle, less stringy than Rodney had expected. 

“I think they look quite nice,” Teyla said. “Is there some significance to the pattern?”

“It’s the flag,” Ford said, and Teyla nodded thoughtfully. 

“Oh yes,” she said, “the one from your sleeve patches— is there a significance to wearing the same pattern in one’s undergarments?”

“No,” Sheppard said. 

“Ex _treme_ patriotism,” Ford said, faux-macho, making a muscle-arm. 

“Imperialism,” Rodney said. He had no idea why but he was inconveniently turned-on. Okay he had plenty of idea why. Fortunately his boxers were a perfectly normal striped pale blue, and rather large, so more concealing than anyone else’s undergarments. 

“Shut up,” Sheppard said. 

“I can’t believe you’re wearing American flag undies,” Rodney said. What he really couldn’t believe was that Sheppard managed to look indescribably hot in them. It was almost obscene how good his ass looked. God, it wasn’t fair. 

“I think they look nice,” Teyla protested one last time. 

“Hey,” Sheppard said sharply, “no pictures.”

“Send me a copy of that,” Rodney said to Ford, who grinned. 

“ _Everybody_ ’s getting a copy of that,” he said. 

And it really was perfect, because Rodney making the photo (Sheppard, full-body, mostly from behind, turning slightly, just about to catch sight of Ford and yell) his desktop wallpaper wasn’t at all weird or perverted, it was just to piss Sheppard off. 

And if he got off, once or twice, looking at it, well, really, it was a phenomenal picture of Sheppard’s ass.


	2. Impressive Ordnance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: boner jokes. What fun is adulthood if you can't make boner jokes?

They spent the night crammed into a makeshift tent made of a tarp and some handy branches, constructed with an astonishing lack of cursing by Ford and Sheppard. Teyla watched, amused; she was from a nomadic society and surely had made more impromptu shelters in her life than the other two put together. Rodney followed her lead and made no comments despite having an engineering degree; it turned out the two military guys actually did have a fair idea of what they were doing, though Sheppard always managed to make anything he did not in the air and not under threat of mortal peril look slightly goofy. 

Rodney wasn’t stupid, he knew he had a crush on the guy. He was all lean muscle, improbable hair, lush mouth, impossible jaw, goofy nerd, and their senses of humor were astonishingly compatible. _Nobody_ got Rodney’s sense of humor, that was the thing. But Sheppard, mostly, did, when he wanted to let on. 

There was absolutely no sign, however, that he had any interest in Rodney besides friendship. And that suited Rodney fine; love affairs tended to be distracting, gay ones that because of unfortunate regulations would necessarily be clandestine even more so. And it had been so incredibly long since Rodney had had just a decent friend, someone who’d seek him out to hang out, someone who seemed to enjoy his company for its own sake, that he was happy enough to let it be just that. He’d only screw it up if he tried for more than a friendship. And Sheppard had made a point, repeatedly, of stating that he wasn’t gay. Despite the hair and that mouth and— Rodney dragged his mind back to the point at hand, and reminded himself: The important thing was to make sure never to let on about the gay thing, ever. 

Not that he was gay, per se. He was so phenomenally bad at relationships, and despite his innate attractiveness, there weren’t many people who’d ever really been interested. So he’d always taken up whoever was offering, male or female, and had determined that a warm body was a warm body. Breasts were great, really great, but there was something deeply alluring in a broad flat chest, in big hands and the brush of stubble and, well, yeah, cock. It wasn’t that Rodney wasn’t picky, it was just that he wasn’t picky about the usual stuff. He’d long since given up on worrying about it, and sort of enjoyed the cachet of “queer” when all was said and done. It certainly shocked people on the rare occasions he deployed it. Mostly, though, people were idiots, and it didn’t bear bringing up. 

Teyla took the first watch; Sheppard was exhausted from some previous crisis, had showed up for the mission haggard, unshaven, and dark-undereye-circled, and they wouldn’t even entertain the notion of letting him keep a watch. He always insisted, otherwise. Rodney privately wondered if the guy was in the habit of sleeping much. Rodney himself wasn’t, so he didn’t mind taking second watch, except the part where he’d be expected to handle whatever the crisis was until the others woke up.

When Teyla woke Rodney for his watch he somehow had wound up tangled up with Ford, which was odd. He woke that way sometimes, and could never quite figure out why. Ford must be a snuggler. Rodney unwrapped himself from around the young man’s body— it wasn’t really that awkward, Ford wasn’t his type at all, way too gung-ho and straight-edged— and went to the tent entrance, yawning. 

Teyla briefed him on the night noises and meteorological phenomena she’d observed, and Rodney yawned and wished for coffee. 

Sheppard was sleeping right by the entrance, curled loosely on his side with his P90 lying pressed against the backs of his knuckles, mouth open, breathing slow and shallow and harsh enough to almost be a snore, but not enough to tease him about. It was a bright night, this planet’s moon looming low and brilliant, but not bright enough to entirely wash out the stars, luminous and huge here in the middle of the galaxy. Rodney thought about the local astronomy, thought wistfully of the purely theoretical stuff they were never gonna have time to catalog for science, and watched Sheppard’s face as he slept. 

Sheppard was just so goddamned _pretty_. It wasn’t fair. 

Finally Rodney pulled out his PDA and made some notes about the astronomy he wanted to have time to do. Maybe he could squeeze in a little in his free time. If nothing else, he thought, he’d get them to point a telescope back toward the Milky Way, and see if they could find Sol. Sheppard would think that was cool.

Dawn crept gray and welcome across the sky, and Rodney stretched his kinked back, yawned quietly, and watched this planet’s birds wake up. Little sparrow-like things, bigger crow-like things, flitted and darted around, catching insects, having battles across the sky. It wasn’t a breathtaking planet, though the moon still hanging low and bright in the sky was interestingly alien. But it was charming, in its own way, and the fact that it was summer here, temperate and pleasant, went a long way. It had only dipped down into the 50s last night, and during the previous day it had been sunny but mild, high 70s at most— enough to get Sheppard to strip down to a t-shirt and tac vest, which Rodney enjoyed thoroughly, but not hot enough to make them sweat much. 

A soft noise beside him drew Rodney’s attention from the birds; Sheppard had rolled onto his back and was stretching, breathing deep, waking up. Rodney glanced over, and his eyes caught on Sheppard’s t-shirt-clad torso, ribs arching as he raised his arms. His eyes were still closed, but he’d kicked himself out of the blanket he’d been rolled in. It was too warm for sleeping bags; he was sleeping on top of the bag. And then Rodney’s brain shut down entirely because in this position it was entirely crystal clear that Sheppard had an enormous case of morning wood, outlined clear and proud as anything against the front of his sleep-rumpled pants. Christ almighty that thing was enormous, and Rodney’s mouth went dry looking at it. 

The others were waking, and Rodney tried and failed to drag his gaze away from Sheppard, who was lying sprawled on his back now, eyes blinking half-open at the underside of the tarp, quite obviously taking his time at waking up. Ford yawned and sat up, rubbing his face. Rodney swallowed hard and tried one last time to drag his gaze away from Sheppard. He looked absolutely fucking delicious, rumpled and sleepy and vulnerable, his lean body lax with sleep, face puffy and just-licked lips slightly pouting in the aftermath of a yawn, and that giant stiffy sticking almost straight up. Through the strain on the fabric Rodney fancied he could even see that Sheppard was circumcised. Common enough, among American men of his age, but it really didn’t help Rodney to know that.

“Christ almighty,” Ford said suddenly, “Major, I thought you were Irish.”

Sheppard blinked mildly at him. “Mm?” His eyes weren’t quite pointing the same direction yet.

Ford pointed right at Sheppard’s crotch, and Sheppard’s face changed, slow-motion, from sleepy questioning to wide-awake mortification, and he sat up and pulled the blanket into his lap. “Jesus, Ford,” he said, annoyed, and blushed dark red, which Rodney had never seen him do before. 

“Holy shit,” Ford said. “I mean, I had no idea you were carrying that kind of ordnance. I think maybe you’re blacker than you let on. Good morning to you, sir!” He pushed to his feet, bright with mirth, and went out of the tent to relieve himself.

“Jesus,” Sheppard grumbled. “Can’t a man wake up in peace?”

“What ever is he talking about?” Teyla asked, rolling over and rubbing at her face.

“Nothing,” Sheppard said repressively. 

“Are not the Irish one of the peoples of Earth?” Teyla asked. “And you are descended from them, but Ford is not?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard said. 

“Why would he bring that up at a time like this? Is there something unusual in the way the Irish observe morning rituals?” Teyla was obviously not in a mood to let this go. 

Rodney cleared his throat, relieved into great amusement. “There are stereotypes commonly held of various of the peoples of Earth,” he said. “One of the stereotypes is that Irish males are not particularly well-endowed when it comes to the size of their privates in their engorged state.”

“We are _not_ talking about this,” Sheppard said, still dark red.

“Another stereotype is that the men of Ford’s heritage, which is at least in part of African extraction, commonly referred to as ‘black’, are very well-endowed,” Rodney went on.

“Mc _Kay_ ,” Sheppard said. Rodney knew fine well that the man would’ve gotten up and left but it would have involved having his crotch at Rodney’s eye level and it was certainly not ready to withstand scrutiny. Or, perhaps, was too ready. Rodney grinned at Teyla. 

“Ah,” Teyla said, “and you have woken up in a state ready to greet the day, and Aiden has observed it.”

Ford came back to the door of the tent, drying his hands on his pants legs. “Is there room in here for me, or is the Major still too excited?”

“Ford, I’m gonna kick your ass in a second,” Sheppard said, teeth gritted. 

“Why?” Ford looked innocent, and stepped around him, making much of giving him plenty of room. “Just don’t point that thing at me, I don’t want to be in the way if it goes off.”

“This is a completely inappropriate conversation,” Sheppard said. 

“Yes but it’s hilarious,” Rodney pointed out. “And don’t be ashamed, Major. We won’t let our jealousy of your blessings override our friendship for you.”

“Who says I’m jealous?” Ford asked. “I never said that. I just never would’ve guessed.” 

“I find myself sorry I missed seeing it,” Teyla said a little wistfully.

“Can we stop?” Sheppard said, almost pleading. “Really. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was showing. I was _asleep_.”

Teyla stretched and climbed to her feet, making her way to the doorway. She put a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder, partly to steady herself, partly to comfort him. “Do not be so upset,” she said. “We are your friends, and mean you no harm.”

“Even if we did, though, you could easily fend us off with your enormous—“ 

“Aiden,” Teyla said sternly, cutting him off. 

“It’s a compliment!” Ford protested. 

“In our Earth culture,” Rodney filled in, “it is assumed that bigger is better in all things, including the size of men’s engorged genitals. And so Ford is insisting that Sheppard cannot be offended, since he is merely observing that, especially for a man of Irish descent, his erection is impressively large.”

“I _really_ wish I had seen it,” Teyla said, but then her expression became stern again. “But it is clear enough to me that even complimentary attention is unwelcome. You should let this go, Aiden, and not because Sheppard is your commanding officer, but rather because he is your friend, and you are distressing him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ford said meekly, but he was still grinning. 


End file.
